“And to friends who provide excellent alibis.” Mariella raises her glass.
“May all our photos be flattering." Serafina smirks. “And may none of us tumble into the champagne tower…again.”
Gabi groans at the reminder, then lifts her glass. “May we all find a handsome heir or reformed rake who’s as well-endowed as Abella’s husband.”
I laugh along with the rest of the girls. It’s become a running joke since the day of the garden incident.
“May his jawline be sharp, and his character morally grey,” Valentina quips.
“And may we stay classy…” Chantel smiles. “At least until midnight.”
They all turn to me, and I know the tradition is to make it silly and fun, but I’m feeling uncharacteristically emotional tonight, and I decide to roll with it.
“To the best friends a girl could ever have,” I say simply.
“Through every version of us.” Mariella gives me a subtle nod.
We all say it together and toast, glasses clinking.
“Okay.” Gabi reaches into her bag. “I know you said you wouldn’t take payment, but I brought it anyway.”
She slides five Chocolove bars across the counter as if they were contraband.
“You didn’t.” Lucia laughs, pulling ten from her bag before she slides them in my direction.
“Well, I brought you a care package.” Chantel retrieves a gift box and slaps it on the counter.
Stamped on the exterior label are the words, “I survived the Anaconda.” When I open it up, I find Epsom salt, a donut pillow, pain relievers, and a sticker that reads: “thoughts and prayers to your pelvic floor.”
“I swear we didn’t coordinate this.” Val stifles a smile as she offers up her payment, which is a candle that declares, “God gives his strongest warriors the biggest challenges.”
I can’t help but laugh, and everyone else joins in—apart from Mariella. She’s vaguely grumbling something about us discussing her brother’s equipment at length.
Gabi wipes away the tears leaking from her eyes. “Did I ruin my makeup?”
“No,” Chantel teases. “It just looks likeyouhad an anaconda lodged in your throat.”
Gabi does a performative bow. “From here on out, I shall be known as the blow job queen.”
“I think you need at least one under your belt before you can qualify for the title,” Val muses.
“I’ll be a quick learner,” Gabi says.
“Your parents must be so proud of your studies,” someone cuts in, the deep voice steeped in mockery. “Planning to graduate with a bachelor’s in oral?”
All our gazes snap to Romeo, who’s standing in the hallway, his dark eyes doing a controlled sweep over Gabi.
“Very funny,” she bites out.
“Jesus, Romeo,” Mariella huffs. “I’m going to put a bell on you. Where did you even come from?”
“I’ve been here for the last hour,” he answers dryly. “Angelo asked me to fix the router in his office.”
“Okay, well, are you done?” Mariella asks. “Because we need to get dressed.”
He levels Gabi with a look of disdain as he stalks past us.
“I’m done.”
